Resonance
by Azhriaz
Summary: This story speculates on what might happen with Grayza's baby assuming he's Crichton's son after her being tossed in the brig at the end of fourth season, and it takes an alt universe turn when she doesn't immediately regain favor with PK High Command.


Disclaimer: Farscape is owned by the Jim Henson Company, the Sci-Fi Channel, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The sole baby in the special ward often wriggles and cries, but his cries are ignored, except when one of the busy, impassive nurses feeds and changes him. Soft blue eyes try to focus on the infrequent visitors, but none are regular enough to register, except for one. At first, there is nothing more than an unmoving black blob just outside of the baby's focus, indistinguishable until it approaches closely enough to be recognized. Enthralled at the sight, the baby stares at the strange new face in rapt fascination until it disappears again.

As the days pass, the nameless baby is able to focus on his regular visitor more and more easily, learning every crease, every hollow, every delicate scale of the pale face that peers down at him. Not content just to see, he reaches upward with a tiny, flailing fist and an inarticulate yearning for contact and is met by a gentle, black-gloved finger and a soft, murmuring voice. Of course, the baby can't understand what is said to him, only that someone recognizes his need and he isn't entirely alone. Somehow he can sense the warm, reassuring presence, even when he can't see him.

* * *

Mele-on Grayza, Commandant no longer, stalks into the Command Carrier's medical bay and demands of the duty nurse, "Where is it?" The ex-Commandant isn't a popular woman these days, not after losing both her command and temporarily her sanity, and the nurse doesn't bother to do more than grunt and point towards the isolation ward. Grayza steps into the ward, snarling spitefully but quietly at being slighted yet again. They'll pay. Once she regains favor with the Council, they'll all pay for these insults to her. And here in this very room is the means of regaining her former rank and position: the child. With John Crichton's genes and the knowledge contained within them, she can gain power beyond her wildest imaginings. She'll show them all.

In a better mood now, she smiles down at her unnamed son and whispers, "Yes, you are the key to it all. You will give me everything I ever wanted. Control of the wormholes and through them, control of the Council, the Peacekeepers, and eventually much, much more..." Her vivid blue eyes are overly bright, dazzled with a beautiful vision of a grand future: the galaxy at peace under strict Peacekeeper rule. She has enough sense, despite her brief fling with insanity, to keep her voice lowered, but she is still heard, not only by her son, but by his most frequent visitor.

Approaching on silent feet is her worst nightmare, his head tilted slightly to listen. Outside the door, he comes to a halt and waits, lips curling in disgust at the words uttered by the baby's "mother". She is a pathetic, paranoid woman, whose worst enemy is herself, not any conspirators. An innocent child, her own flesh and blood, is regarded as nothing more than a tool to her, something to be used and thrown aside. He closes his eyes in sudden, silent pain, remembering... remembering... An unsteady breath is all that reveals how shaken he is, and then he's gone again, leaving Grayza to her gloating.

* * *

"Sir?"

The second repetition finally gains the distracted Scorpius' attention. He glances back at Braca with a warm smile and a slightly bowed head. "Apologies, Meeklo. I was thinking of something else." He mentally replays what his friend had just asked and answers smoothly, "Research, for the most part. I'm afraid that I specialized in wormhole research to the exclusion of my other interests, and now that I have the time, I can pursue other lines of study..." And decide how far he should go to help the Kalish Resistance, he finishes silently. Despite the Scarrans' power being broken - for a time - the Kalish remain a subject race, and Sikozu's loyalties are still to her comrades. He misses her, more than he ever expected he would, but she will be back once she's checked with her contacts.

Braca thoughtfully studies his former commander, mentor, and friend. He can hazard a good guess as to what has been troubling Scorpius the past few weeks of his visit. "It's the baby, isn't it?" Scorpius' stiffening posture and widened eyes tell him that his guess was right on the mark, and he grins boyishly, pleased with his success; however, the smile vanishes quickly, too quickly. He has his own nightmares, and this could have been one of them. "There was a chance that he might have been... mine, but no. He's a hybrid, and three ways. Sebacean, Human, and... Nebari. Somehow, Grayza is part Nebari, and don't ask me how she passed the genetic scans as a full-blooded Sebacean."

"I have my suspicions," Scorpius notes evenly, a bit annoyed at being so easily read, yet also quietly proud of his protégé for catching on so quickly. Braca has come a long, long way from the unquestioning Peacekeeper officer he once was. "I wonder, which of our elder Council members had a Nebari lover?" The question is rhetorical, as he's not really interested in petty gossip. Taking a deep breath, he moves on to the topic that matters to him. "The baby... is he healthy?" The child's aura was strong, but that reflected the spirit, not necessarily the body. For instance, a brief glance at himself would reveal an even stronger spirit, despite the contradictory frailness of his body.

Now it's Braca's turn to be distracted by his thoughts as he types in the commands to retrieve the data from his desktop terminal. He stares blankly at the monitor as various data rapidly scrolls past, and then starts and taps in the command to stop the scroll. "It's strange. Once in a while," he murmurs slowly, "I still hear those two voices arguing inside my head. The dark one whispers that this baby is an abomination, a..." He pauses to look apologetically at Scorpius before finishing the sentence. "... freak. The other voice, the stronger voice, reminds me that pure blood isn't the all-important factor that we were taught it was. Anyway, the baby's fine. In this case, the three races mixed gracefully."

Whether or not Scorpius is disturbed, even hurt by the evidence of old prejudice is hard to tell. His pale face is serene now, his blue eyes solemn and calm, but when he speaks, his tone is once again that of a mentor. "Not too long ago, you fervently believed in the purity of the species as much as any other Peacekeeper, old friend. You've progressed since then, but there will be times when your conditioning will try to reassert itself. Those times will become fewer as you distance yourself from those long-standing biases." The last is said with reassurance and renewed warmth. And yes, forgiveness. "I am pleased to hear that the child is doing well, though considering his mother, that is miraculous."

"As you know from personal experience?" Braca asks softly. He doesn't really need to ask; he knows the answer to that, not only from what he's witnessed himself, but from what he's seen in the man's file. Suddenly embarrassed, he decides not to push the issue and abruptly changes the subject to something less unpleasant to both of them. "They'll both be gone soon. Grayza is transferring back to Sebacea Prime as soon as the request is approved, and from the smug hints she's been dropping, her current High Command lover - or lovers - will expedite the transfer. Good riddance," he observes with mingled relief and satisfaction, and then adds gratefully, "Oh, and thanks for the heppel-neutralizer formula, Sir. She hasn't been able to try her tricks on anyone since she was first injected." Braca has his suspicions as to why she was so quickly released from the mental ward despite using only female guards. Feeling a bit queasy at where these speculations are going, he drops them. What's done is done, and the sooner she's gone from his ship, the better.

Scorpius' expression is distant and distracted again after Braca finishes, the slightest of frowns touching his chiseled face. The thought of this hybrid child, John Crichton's son, in Grayza's hands is intolerable, and the slight frown is briefly transformed into a frustrated snarl, revealing sharp teeth. Frustration may be a familiar old acquaintance, but that doesn't mean he enjoys its company. The snarl fades away as quickly as it appeared, and with a resigned sigh, he responds to Braca's unspoken 'What's wrong?' with, "I don't like this situation, but you already know that". Resolutely setting his own personal quandary aside, he continues, "Yes, they will be gone soon, and you are very welcome for the formula. It's the least I could do for your own peace of mind and the protection of your subordinates." Abruptly restless, he excuses himself to return to his quarters, leaving a puzzled and slightly worried Braca behind.

* * *

More time passes, marked only by the regular dimming and brightening of the artificial lighting in the special ward. The baby wails frequently, as his favorite visitor is absent, leaving only the other visitor, the one with the cold eyes and colder voice. Cold Voice wearies of his cries quickly enough and leaves him alone again, but that doesn't help. He yearns, he needs, he craves. His assigned nurse is frustrated with his constant cries, finding nothing physically wrong with the infant and caring little for his mental health. After all, to her, it's only a hybrid. Eventually, he becomes quiet and listless, and Cold Voice returns, bringing his nurse. Her words, "leaving in a few arns", mean nothing to him, but being dressed in a coverall by the nurse is different and briefly catches his interest before he lapses into apathy again. Cold Voice and the nurse leave again, and all is still.

Prowling nearby is a stealthy shadow with light feet and heavy thoughts. Scorpius has tried to stay away, told himself that this is none of his business, but his emotions continue to war with his intellect. This is... wrong, so very, very wrong. The temptation is there to simply abscond with the child, but what would he do with him? John Crichton has done an excellent job of vanishing, and would he even want the child of his rape? While he has enough confidence in Braca to expect him to help willingly, it would still cause trouble for him with High Command, perhaps even cost him his commission. No, he won't endanger Meeklo. The man has been through enough already because of Grayza. So has he, for that matter, but he is more forgiving of wrongs done to himself than those done to his friends.

A faint, lonely cry reaches his ears, and despite all logic, the decision he almost made is abruptly unmade. He cannot ignore that need; emotions win over logic after all. This child is innocent, regardless of his maternal parentage, and is undeserving of the cruel fate that awaits him. With the decision comes a welcome release from tension and a wry, self-deprecating amusement at haphazardly undertaking a new cause so soon after the successful completion of the previous one. At least this one shouldn't be as difficult as the last; all he has to do is steal the baby, locate his father wherever in the universe he may be hiding, and deliver his son to him. There's a strong possibility that John will not want the child, but he'll deal with that when he finds the man. To protect Braca, he will do this alone, as he has so many times before. His friend may suspect, but he will not know for certain and cannot be blamed.

The cry dies away as the baby senses Scorpius' presence even before he comes into view. Squirming violently in the unaccustomed coverall, he kicks and thrashes excitedly, gurgling a welcome to the black-clad figure he has awaited for so long. This time, it is different. This time, he is picked up and held, not by a disdainful nurse, disgusted at having to touch a filthy hybrid, but by cool gloved hands that gently cradle his body. He looks up at the ever-fascinating pale face, blue eyes meeting blue eyes, and as he is carried away from that cold, unwelcoming place forever, hears the soft, familiar voice murmur, "I name you John Robert Crichton".


End file.
